


Be More Nice, Don’t Smoke Drugs, and Please Don’t Say F*ck on Air

by EmeraldAshes



Series: College DJ Evan Hansen [2]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Radio, College Radio, Connor Deserves Happiness, Dysfunctional Family, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Murphy Family Dinner, Protective Evan, Radio, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, Things You Can't Say on the Radio, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 02:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12925026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldAshes/pseuds/EmeraldAshes
Summary: “Happy Valentine’s Day! It’s E here with Showtune It Up, and this is a pretty, uh, pretty cool episode because I have a guest with me. Some of you, if you’ve been listening for a while at least, might remember the story of how I met my boyfriend Connor through the show, and well, here he is!”Connor leaned into the mic. “I’m going to tell the story of the first time Evan met my parents.”





	Be More Nice, Don’t Smoke Drugs, and Please Don’t Say F*ck on Air

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been looking for an excuse to write a Murphy Family Thanksgiving. Also, it’s been a while since I played with a blatantly biased narrator, which is always fun.

“Happy Valentine’s Day! It’s E here with Showtune It Up, and this is a pretty, uh, pretty cool episode because I have a guest with me. Some of you, if you’ve been listening for a while at least, might remember the story of how I met my boyfriend Connor through the show, and well, here he is!” Evan grinned at Connor from across the studio’s table.

Connor leaned into the second mic. “Sup.”

Evan nudged up Connor’s levels so he wouldn’t sound too soft. “I gave him the rundown of what not to do, so hopefully we won’t have big gaps because he cursed or whatever, but if there is a gap, well, sorry.”

“I wish I’d been able to record that conversation. Don’t smoke drugs, Connor. Be more nice. I’m also not allowed to kiss him on air because it ‘might sound weird.’”

Evan’s cleared his throat. “I also d-don’t want to make people uncomfortable.”

Connor’s elbow rested on the desk, his chin balanced on the back of his wrist as his lips nearly touched the microphone. “Not kissing you makes _me_ pretty uncomfortable.”

Evan snorted, wondering if the mic had picked it up. “Oh, also, for everyone listening who’s single and, uh, h-hating this and had to watch people like me walk around with roses all day—Thank you again, Connor!—Jared asked me to tell you guys that his show is in one hour. He just went through a break-up, and his show tonight is called Why Me? A Pity Party. He asked me to play something sad for him, so here’s ‘The Winner Takes It All’ from Mamma Mia, then we’ll make it a l-little less depressing with ‘If I Loved You’ from Carousel.”

Evan hit the glowing buttons so that only the computer's audio would air, and he leaned back from the microphone.

“They definitely can’t hear us?” Connor asked, his eyes intently on Evan.

Evan nodded. Connor lurched across the table to kiss him. Connor’s lips were always chapped during the wintertime, but Evan liked the slight roughness against his sensitive lips. The long-haired student tasted sharply of mint from the gum he chewed to fight nicotine cravings, and his long-fingered hand sent a shiver down Evan’s spine as it pressed against his neck . Evan smiled into the kiss, gently pulling away. “I love you.”

Connor grinned. “I love you, too. Jesus, just _thinking_ about not kissing you was driving me crazy.”

“Just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

“Nope.” Connor darted in for another peck.

After Evan had backsold the songs and read a card advertising an art show at the library, Connor informed their listeners, “We spent the entire break making out.”

“C-Connor!” Evan said. “I’m r-rolling my eyes right now, guys.”

“He’s also smiling,” Connor said.

“Sh-shut up. So, um, we were thinking about maybe telling a story or something? If anyone has any requests—”

“I’m going to tell the story of the first time Evan met my parents.”

Evan laughed, running a hand through his hair. “N-no you aren’t. I, no, trust me, you guys don’t want to hear that.”

Connor held up his phone. “Too late. I’m on your Twitter, and Zoe’s all for it.”

“She was th-there, though?”

“She knows it’s a good story”—Connor loudly cleared his throat—“It was a dark and stormy night.”

Evan snorted. “It was noon on Thanksgiving.”

Connor petulantly tossed back his hair. “I remember it differently. It was dark and stormy, and Evan had kindly agreed to accompany me into Hell.”

“His house is literally a mansion, and his family is…wait, do you think your parents are g-gonna listen to this?”

“Probably.”

“R-right. Uh, I’m gonna put on the Story of Schmuel sung by Jason Robert Brown from the Last Five Years. It’s holiday-related. It’s k-kind of romantic, too, even though they get divorced later, and then all the songs become sad because you can see the inevitable crash of their relationship, and I’m putting it on now, bye.”

Connor’s eyes were on him, the pupils dilated. He smiled lazily when Evan noticed him staring.

Evan blushed. “You h-have a problem.”

“You’re the solution,” Connor said.

Evan checked to make sure the next spot was ready to play and that everything was recording normally. “So, are you sure about, this? B-because I don’t want to upset your parents.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, just—”

Connor winked at him, snagging Evan’s hand and pulling it across the table. “Be more nice. Got it.”

They were still holding hands when Evan told listeners, “O-okay, so I was terrified to meet Connor’s parents. Um, you know how I sounded during my first show? Imagine that, but in person and with a lot of fidgeting.”

“As long as you didn’t show up high on crack, they were gonna approve,” Connor said, “and I didn’t give a…hoot…what they thought anyway.”

Evan squeezed Connor’s hand. “N-nice save there.”

Connor resumed the story, letting go so he could start gesticulating. “You need to understand that my mom Cynthia goes through phases like an insecure 13-year-old. Right now, she’s trying to commune with the Earth or whatever. She’s got like two hundred crystals. I walk inside and immediately trip over this stone egg crystal thing—”

“Geode,” Evan clarified.

“The whole house was infested with crystals, and Evan just finished Intro to Geology, so he starts babbling about science, and Cynthia starts babbling about auras.” Connor held up one palm, then another, like he was a fancy waiter with a plate full of champagne glasses on each hand.

“Connor is moving his arms around, like, a _lot_ ,” Evan whispered into the mic.

“There they are, two people having two totally different conversations, and both of them left feeling completely heard. It was bizarre. Seriously, did you retain anything she said?”

Evan hummed as he thought for a moment. “Green auras are, um, healing, I think?”

“Gold star,” Connor said. “Then he meets Larry, my father. Larry likes to intimidate people, and he immediately starts asking questions like ‘You like baseball?’ and ‘Can you believe these clowns in Washington?’ Evan is just nodding along like a bobblehead. Yes sir. No sir. I didn’t know that, sir.”

“I, um...h-honestly I don’t remember any of this. I think I might have blacked out or something.”

“So after five minutes, Larry decides that he has found a kindred spirit. Literally the only thing wrong with you is that you’re dating his loser of a son.”

“You’re not a loser.”

“My parents would disagree”—Connor patted Evan’s hand—“By the time dinner rolls around, they’re ready to adopt him.”

Evan queued up the next two songs. “He’s exaggerating.”

“I’m really not.”

“We’re going to play some music.”

As soon as the first song started playing, Connor said, “Fuck. Shit. Asshole. Pussy…Am I missing something?”

Evan shrugged. “Pr-probably.”

Connor continued, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck.”

Evan laughed, checking to make sure the mic wasn’t on because it wasn’t, it definitely wasn’t, but what if it was? “Did that…help?”

“I feel so free I could fly. Also, I know motherfucker’s a no-go, but can I say badass? Or is that going to get us arrested by the radio police, too?”

“That’s fine, yeah,” Evan said as he switched on the mic. “W-we’re back for the Embarrassing Evan Show with Connor Murphy.”

“Thanksgiving dinner was when things got really interesting…”

 

* * *

 

“Dad,” Zoe said as she sat down at the table, “are you torturing Evan?”

Larry chuckled as he started cutting up the turkey. “What? No, of course not.”

Zoe turned to Evan. “Evan, is he torturing you?”

Evan sputtered, and Zoe held up a hand. “Actually, no, you’re a hostage…Connor, is Dad torturing Evan?”

“Definitely,” I said.

Larry shook his head. “Fine, fine. Gang up on me. Now, why don’t we all say what we’re grateful for? It’s sort of a tradition here, Evan. I’ll go first. I’m grateful for this wonderful home, my beautiful wife, my talented daughter, and my…son.”

Cynthia smiled at them all, her eyes sweeping across the table. “I’m also so happy to be here with family. I love you all so much.”

Zoe fiddled with her fork. “I’m grateful for, um, the food.”

I decided on something that would not start a fight because I was trying to be nice. Which means that what happened later on was not my fault. “I’m grateful that Zoe set me up with Evan, even if she is a nosy brat.”

Cynthia massaged her temple, stressing the word, _“Connor._ ”

I might be paraphrasing, but Evan said something like, “I, um, I’m grateful that, that I’m doing well in school, and that I’m dating Connor, and that I’m…here. I mean, that you invited me here? And, and…That’s it. Sorry.”

Zoe took pity on Evan and redirected my parents’ attention toward herself, which is kind of our family’s equivalent to pushing someone out of the way of an oncoming train, knowing that you're about to be hit instead. “I’m really liking my fraternity.”

Larry immediately launched into his know-it-all bullshit. “You mean sorority.”

Zoe was smiling, but it was her angry, gritted-teeth smile. “No, I mean fraternity. It’s coed.”

Larry’s eyebrows shot up as he dropped a hunk of turkey onto his plate. “Is it?”

Zoe poured gravy onto her mashed potatoes with a sharp flick of her wrist. “Okay, you don’t need to get all weird about it. We spend like 90% of our time doing community service.”

Cynthia folded her hands. “That’s lovely.”

I think I deserve credit here for not mentioning that they spend the other 10% of their time getting wasted.

“How are your grades?” Larry said.

“They aren’t officially in yet, but good, I think.”

“Have you gotten any new solos in that band of yours?”

Zoe took a long time to chew. “Not really, but I have a lot of hope for this semester.”

Cynthia beamed. “Fingers crossed for you, sweetie.”

“Connor’s been doing a lot of stuff,” Zoe said with exaggerated innocence.

Larry sounded blatantly suspicious. “Oh?”

I attempted to wiggle out of my sudden position as Zoe’s human shield. “I’m not doing that much.”

“Don’t be modest.” Zoe knew damned well I was not being modest. “Tell them about your, um, your class with the video stuff.”

“Oh!” Cynthia clapped her hands. “That sounds interesting. Doesn’t it, Larry?”

Larry gave his full attention to his plate.

Cynthia hadn’t even put food on her plate because stressful situations kill her appetite, and our family is a stressful situation. “What sort of videos were you making, Connor?”

I had begun work on a sculpture of a turkey using only mashed potatoes and a fork. “Comedy, mostly. Mockumentaries, some fiction. Zoe’s in most of them. She’s good at improv.”

My attempt to redirect the attention to my sister failed yet again. Cynthia said, “So, are you acting in these videos, or…?”

“I’m behind the camera”—I pointed at Evan with my fork—“Evan does sound. I bribe everyone else with—”

“Do you have paint on your arms?” Larry interrupted.

It turns out that my sleeve had rolled up just enough to start the next family argument. “It’s a tattoo.”

“You got a _tattoo?_ ”

“Yep.”

Larry shifted his attention to the other side of the table. “Zoe, why didn’t you tell us?”

Zoe leaned back in her chair, scowling. “I’m not your spy.”

“Jesus, Connor. What the hell were you thinking?”—Larry roughly ran a hand through his hair—“This could impact your career.”

I glared at him. “I’m an art major.”

“And you’re lucky I’m still supporting that, but eventually you’ll realize that that isn’t sustainable.”

A few years ago, I would have thrown something already. “Well, thanks for the advice.”

Unfortunately, we had already hit the Interrogate Connor part of the night. I was hoping to stall that long enough to grab a slice of pie. Larry forked another slice of turkey and added it to his plate. “Are you still doing drugs?”

“If I was, I sure as Hell wouldn’t tell you.”

“I am not paying for you to go to college just so you can spend my money on marijuana,” Larry snapped.

Cynthia reached for his arm. “Larry…”

“No, Cynthia! He is an _adult,_ and he doesn’t get a free pass to be rude to us at our table just because—”

And then, very quietly but cutting through Larry’s rant like a knife, “He’s not being rude.”

The table fell silent as we stared at Evan. “I…It’s just, Connor c-cares about his art, and he barely even does drugs, less than a lot of people. And his tattoo is important to him, too, like it’s r-really personal? And you’re shouting and being judgmental, and you shouldn’t badger someone at the table. It’s bad etiquette.”

Evan stood up, set his napkin on the chair, and gave Cynthia a small smile. “Thank you for the meal, Mrs. Murphy.”

Then, he walked out like a badass.

 

* * *

 

Evan’s face felt hot in the chilled room. “When I got outside, I r-realized that you were the one who drove, so I ended up hiding in the bushes until you c-came to get me.”

Connor glanced at Evan as he spoke into the microphone, smiling like he knew a wonderful secret. “As I pulled you out of the bushes, leaves in your hair, it hit me that I was totally in love with you.”

“I love you, too,” Evan murmured.

They were quiet for a moment, then Evan blushed. “Oh! S-sorry, I kind of forgot we were on air for a minute. Um, a couple more songs, and then we’ll be done. So, th-thanks for listening to Showtune It Up, and I’ll be back next week, on Thursday, at 7 p.m.”

Connor winked at Evan. “As usual, I’ll be tweeting about it on my couch.”

Evan set up the last two songs, the station ID, and the news. “Have a happy Valentine's Day, everyone!"


End file.
